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Your first steps, your first words

And not a single memory

Why do we remember nothing before the age of three?

The hippocampus files your memories away

But it builds so many fresh neurons that they jostle the old ones as they move in

And the words are missing

Without language to tell the story, the memory drifts and lands nowhere

Yet nothing is truly lost: those years leave their mark elsewhere, in gestures and in feelings

Not a black hole

Just a book written in invisible ink